


See me, Know me, (Love me)

by BunnyGeneral



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Canon Typical Violence, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, Non-Human Jaskier | Dandelion, OR IS IT, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:28:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23642365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BunnyGeneral/pseuds/BunnyGeneral
Summary: "What I am doesn’t have a name. I was before language could name me and unless you decide to kill me now, I will continue to be until language is no more."
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 42
Kudos: 403





	1. Chapter 1

Of course, Yennefer was at the Lord's house. He was the wealthiest in the area and she was always called to opulence. So then, of course, Geralt accepted the offer to stay the night rather than immediately head out for the contract. Never mind how many times he's pleaded for the same. But, his desires meant nothing to Geralt. It didn’t matter how many nights it had been since they slept in a real bed, or how long it’s been since they’ve had a proper meal. Geralt was thoroughly enchanted by Yennefer, and all it took was her stroking her hand down his arm and leaning in closer to entice him into sharing the evening with her. 

He could do it too if he wanted to. Bend Geralt to his will like that damned sorceress. But...it would be empty. He didn't want Geralt to mindlessly adore him, follow him around like a lost puppy rather than the white wolf he loves. He wanted to be loved in return.

He kept thinking that he had accepted it, that Geralt would never be his. That he would spend his long life close, so tantalizing close. He thinks it’s fates punishment, the cost of staying so close to the Witcher without being discovered. He knows part of it is of his own making, it’s been 30 years with him now. 30 years of sharing beds, of bathing together, of treating Geralt's wounds. 30 years without Geralt finding out his secret. He knows it’s come down to sheer dumb luck that Geralt has been oblivious to his lack of aging. 

He knew he had to suffer through dinner, he’s suffered through worse in the long life he has led. The hall filled with laughter he couldn’t bring himself to join and food that Jaskier couldn’t bring himself to eat. Not when Yennefer kept  _ touching _ him. She had immediately pulled Geralt up to the Lord's table and took his job in proclaiming his skill. 

She even kept pulling Geralt into conversations with the Lord. Geralt was tolerating it too, not like he ever did when Jaskier ‘dragged’ him to these types of engagements. With Jaskier, he is always scowling, displeasure at being there bordering on rude. With her though, his face is carefully neutral. He is actually trying to appease her. Yennefer knows too, she kept  _ smirking _ at him the whole time. Laughing at the jealousy he tried so hard to bury but she knew. Has known. She has known since they first met how he felt about him. It was a sort of friendly competition at first, on who could get his attention. 

Jaskier had played the part, but there was just too much in his way. Jaskier was the clueless bard, getting into trouble, slowing Geralt down. Not able to show what he could do because...he was scared. Yennefer had a clear advantage. She was stunning, she was powerful, she was smart. Jaskier, the human, stood no chance against it. 

She wasn’t even trying to be cruel. He was sure she still thought it was part of the game, but Jaskier was  _ tired.  _ Tired of the lies, of pretending not to be bothered by Geralt's sometimes harsh words, tired of not being  _ seen.  _ And Jaskier was  _ angry.  _ Angry at himself for letting himself get dragged along for far longer than it should have ever gone on. 

It was a long party, far too long to dwell on his thoughts. Far too much time to drink. Jaskier was already far into one too many glasses of wine when he watched Yennefer lean close to Geralt, watched Geralt's eyes lose their careful facade of blatant disinterest. Yennefer making eye contact with Jaskier across the room as she pulled him out, the last thing he saw being the back of Geralt's head. A sight he was thoroughly  _ sick _ of seeing. 

So he continued to drink, and he continued to think. Think that maybe, it was time for this to end. All this uncertainty and insecurity. Of being belittled and looked down upon. Of being unseen. 

No one has seen more than he wanted them to for over 100 years now. All the patrons at this party laugh along with his antics, as he floats from table to table, singing a song and having a drink. His tolerance is higher than a human's but even he can only drink so much. Because the topic at every table is about  _ Geralt _ . 

He will blame the drink for why he was walking out of the Lord’s manor and into the forest where the object of their contract was said to reside. 

With each step past the tree line, he breathed deeper and slowly shed his illusion of humanity. His skin crawled with the feeling of freedom he hadn’t let himself have in years, too many years. His bones shifted as he let himself stretch into his true height. A flex of his hands and his fingers stretched and sharpened, fingertips hardening into a knife's edge. His skin turned an unhealthy shade of blue, like the frostbitten dead. His jaw cracked as more teeth quickly filled the space that had felt so  _ empty  _ without them. His  _ human _ teeth lost their blunt weak edge, growing and shifting, sharpening in a way that felt so  _ right.  _ The blue of his irises encroached on the white, spreading. An Icy warmth dripped down his spine and arms as the scales started to rip through the soft exterior he had donned amongst the humans. Black staining his skin once the human red has run out. It’s been so long since he has seen his real blood. He felt the sharp spines along his shoulders catching on his clothes as they grew. He cracked his unnaturally long neck as he rolled his shoulders. Finally feeling comfortable in a way he hadn’t let himself feel in way too long.

He couldn't help but laugh, it echoed in a way it shouldn’t through the woods, and the woods stilled in response. His lips pulled tight and unnatural into a mockery of a grin as he zeroed in on his target. 

A Feind. That’s what was causing all the fuss? Jaskier chuckled and the sound almost reverberated through the ground. His muscles tight in anticipation as he lowered himself into a crouch. The Feind turned at the sound but, upon seeing Jaskier in the shadows, took off deeper into the forest. Jaskier gave chase, shrill laughter falling from his lips at the thrill, Feinds are ancient and fast but like this, there is little that would be able to put up much of a challenge. 

Jaskier relished in the feel of his fingertips digging into its flesh, it’s tough exterior tearing away like ripping apart a fresh loaf of bread. Its blood warm and sweet on his face when his tongue slips out for a taste, smearing it further. But it was over much too fast. And with the fading adrenaline, Jaskier was just left bloody and alone in the woods faced with the side of himself that he was going to soon reveal and the reality that he would have to say goodbye to being the lighthearted bard. The truth had been delayed too long already. With a sharp pull, he wrenched the Feind’s head from its body and started the slow trek back to the manor. 

Dawn was approaching as he reached the walls. Everyone should be awake now, and he was about to show them what hasn’t been seen by another in millennia. If Geralt wasn’t already awake, the screams of the guards surely would do the trick. He painted a terrifying picture, so obviously inhuman, drenched in blood, and carrying another monster’s head through the quart yard.

He stepped surely through the manor until he reached the main hall, word of his coming had obviously reached them. The door to the hall was shut tightly and he could hear the panicked voices from within. He scoffed at the pathetic sham of safety, as though a door meant anything to him. All it took was a light yank and the door was ripped from its place in the wall. He watched with continued forced indifference as the men and women inside cried and ran. One brave soul tried to rush him but his sword shattered in Jaskiers grip. None more tried. 

He never said anything but he knew why Geralt found the smell of fear so revolting. Half the people in the room pissed themselves at the sight of him. Jaskier couldn’t stop his nose from wrinkling in distaste. With careful, measured steps he walked toward the Lord. Behind him, he heard Geralt's heavy footsteps rushing forward and the sound of his sword being drawn. 

The room was completely still, Geralt was tense in the doorway taking stock of the situation and Jaskier forced his body into relaxation. 

“I killed your monster, My Lord,” Jaskier said softly, his voice still echoing eerily through the hall. He could hear Geralt stepping closer. His footsteps would have been silent to anyone else. He threw the bloody head at the Lord’s feet and relished in his flinch before Geralt’s sword found its place hovering at his neck.

“Hello Geralt, how was your night? Did you get any rest at all?” Jaskier snarled bitterly. He could feel the sword pulling a centimeter away from his neck, heard Geralt take a deep breath as he circled Jaskier so he could see him. 

“Jaskier? What...happened to you?” Geralt questioned, uncommon hesitancy coloring his voice. 

“Oh. You mean the blood? Well, it’s quite the story let me tell you.” Jaskier replied sharply, lips pulling back to reveal his too many teeth. “It put up a bit of a chase but it ended up bloodier than difficult. Couldn’t quite run fast enough.” Jaskier laughed, so unnaturally Geralt flinched ever so slightly. Catching sight, Jaskier laughed even harder, almost manic. “Are you afraid of me dear Witcher? It’s alright if you are, I wouldn’t blame you. I am not what you have gotten accustomed to am I?” Jaskier cooed, eyes pinched in sorrow. 

“You…?” Geralt finally choked out. 

“I? I am what I am. I am what I have always been. I’m sorry to take away the fool’s hope you had of  _ Jaskier the useless, troublemaking Bard.”  _ Jasker spit, anger pulling his features sharp. “You just couldn’t, or  _ wouldn’t  _ see, I should say. 30 years and you never paid enough attention to my existence to even notice that I wasn’t aging. 30 years of snide comments interjected with the occasional kindness. Just enough that I could cling to so tightly my fingers bled.” Jaskier finally broke eye contact, looking down at his right hand curled into a fist so tightly fresh black blood was pooling and dripping onto the floor from where his nails pierced his hands.

As Jaskier relaxed his grip his shoulders sunk. When he finally met Geralt’s eyes again he was still scared, still heartbroken, but mostly he was just  _ Tired.  _

Geralt finally seemed to regain some sort of control.  "What are you?" He whispered, demand still clear in his tone. That the grip on his sword tightened did not escape Jaskier's notice. 

"Oh my dear sweet Witcher, what I am doesn’t have a name. I was before language could name me and unless you decide to kill me now, I will continue to be until language is no more." Jaskier responded just as quietly, resigned. He tilted his head to bare his neck to the sword held to his skin. “If it’s you who decides I must die, then I will accept it. I have been alive for a long time, but I have never felt such pain. Humans are stronger than they appear, to survive heartbreak.” Jaskier slowly closes his eyes so he doesn’t have to see the moment when Geralt finally decides to make his final move. 

When nothing happens Jaskier slowly opens his eyes again and sees Geralt has withdrawn his sword, realization and shock in his eyes. Jaskier scoffs so he doesn’t cry. 

“So you see me now, don’t you. All of me and all that I could never say.” Jaskier takes in Geralt’s stricken expression with a tight heart. “Thank you, Geralt, for what you gave. Even if it wasn’t quite enough for me, it was nice while it lasted. Farewell, my dear heart, I am glad I got to love you in the end.” 

Jaskier fled, channeling all his speed to where even a Witcher could barely see him. As he ran he finally allowed himself to cry. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for everyone's patience for chapter 2! Life has been more than a little stressful. Still is, but I couldn't leave these two unresolved for any longer. Hope you like it!

It’s been months since he last saw Jaskier, and he can’t get it out of his head. The look of absolute pain in a face he barely recognized, yet knew so well. His last words torment his waking thoughts.

_ I’m glad I got to love you in the end _

He tried to follow him, track him, but could find no trace of his existence. No trail to follow and no hint of his presence no matter where he traveled. It was as though his name was stolen from all knowledge. There was not even any record of him as a student at Oxenfurt. 

_ I’m glad I got to love you in the end _

Geralt found himself staring at the lute that was strapped to Roach’s saddle every time he stopped for the night. Jaskier’s belongings that he carries with him, and the traveling bards still playing his songs, were the only proof Geralt had that he existed in the first place. 

_ I’m glad I got to love you in the end _

Their songs in the taverns haunt him like a vengeful spirit. He wants to ignore them but every time he hears the first few notes of one of  _ his _ songs he can’t help the small flash of hope that it’s actually Jaskier. It never is. 

_ I’m glad I got to love you in the end _

Despite what Jaskier had said, he scoured books, asked other witchers when he could, spoke with anyone who might have knowledge of what Jaskier could be and how he could find him, but no one had any answers.  _ No name _ indeed. It was another dead end, one of many. 

_ I’m glad I got to love you in the end _

Geralt did not look away from the lute at the sound of a portal opening behind him. 

“Are you still brooding Geralt?” Yennefer goaded. 

Geralt just sighed. “Did you find anything Yennefer?” Geralt asked, exhaustion obvious. 

“Nothing. No other magic user has any idea, the entire brotherhood is clueless as to what he is. Honestly Geralt, you might want to consider giving up.” Yennefer said carefully. “I don’t think he is quite inclined to be found. Least of all by you right now.” 

“What the  _ fuck  _ is that supposed to mean?” Geralt growled, finally tearing his gaze away from the lute to glare at her. 

Yennefer huffed out a frustrated breath. “It  _ means _ that until you can figure out why it’s so important to you to find him, I don’t think you will.” 

“Speak plainly Yennefer, or leave me alone.” Geralt snarled, turning sharply away from her, unable to stand her knowing look. 

“This is something you need to figure out for yourself, and the longer you put it off the harder it will be to find him.” Yennefer sighed. “I’ll keep looking Geralt, if it makes you feel better. I can’t deny my part in this, I should have realized it meant more to him.” She admitted softly, unexpected guilt coloring her tone that Geralt didn’t understand, and with an appraising look at her closed-off expression and tight shoulders, she wasn’t going to tell him. 

“Think about what I have said, Geralt.” She said into the tense silence between them before, with the static crackle of a portal, he was left alone once more. 

_____

He has no other leads, and so Geralt thinks. While he is on the road, while he is making camp, while he is hunting his next contract, in his dreams on one occasion. He dreamed Jaskier was playing his lute across the fire from him, smiling and humming, occasionally looking up at Geralt with an expression he now knows is  _ love.  _ When he woke alone, he felt the absence as though it were a physical pain in his chest.

_ Love _

_ I’m glad I got to love you in the end _

How could he have not noticed that Jaskier  _ loved  _ him. How could he have not noticed  _ him.  _ How he was always there, how he smiled, how he laughed, how he supported him. He missed his voice, his jokes, his singing. He missed his always present kindness, his acceptance. How somehow, every child immediately trusted him, how he coaxed out happiness from even the darkest of crowds, how he coaxed happiness from  _ him. _

Jaskier, Jaskier was  _ good _ . Jaskier was  _ better  _ than any  _ human _ he has ever met.

And he dismissed him, didn’t…

_ So you see me now. _

He didn’t see him. 

He loved him. 

“I love him.” He whispered to the empty air.

___________________________

He was still reeling from his realization when days later he walked into the tavern in the next town. He had barely begun nursing his first ale when his attention caught onto the complete silence that had fallen over the room. He tensed, cautiously looking around the room to see what had changed when his attention caught on the bard. 

Everyone was staring intently at him, where he was sitting in a chair at the center of the room. As gently, he began to sing, slowly and softly. Geralt found himself just as enraptured, though he has never heard it before, he can’t but find it familiar.

‘ _ It steals all my reason, commits every treason of logic, with not but a look’  _

The song feels wrong, like it should be being played by someone else. 

_ ‘Of longing and heartache and lust’ _

It sounds like nights by the fire, of quiet evenings in the inns.

_ ‘I’m weak my love and I am wanting’ _

Geralt can’t help but think of Jaskier’s face, the last that he saw it.

_ ‘I’ll welcome my sentence’  _

His neck, bared to his sword. Geralt feels like he could puke. 

He watched the bard, long after the song was done. He waited till he bowed and left, and he followed. The yelp he made when Geralt fisted his doublet and pushed him against the wall of the tavern was not as satisfying as he wished it was. 

“Where did you learn that song?” He growled, looming over him. 

“I. I don’t know what you mean Master Witcher, what song?” He whimpered under his grip “If anything I played displeased you, I’m very sorry Master Witcher.”

Geralt couldn’t stop his nose from wrinkling in distaste at the simpering. “The first one, ‘I’m weak my love and I am wanting’, where did you learn it? Which bard taught it to you, and where was it?” He was almost yelling, desperate to know where to go next.    
  
“I don’t know!” He cried, trembling in his grip when it tightened. “I swear it! I can’t explain it and it sounds crazy, I just knew it! It was just...there. Please believe me, please let me go.” He pleaded, completely terrified. Geralt released him and watched as he bolted from the yard. 

__________________

Every tavern after was the same, as soon as he would sit down, a quiet would fall over the room and the bard would play  _ that _ song. And none of them could recall having ever heard it before, and deny writing it. 

Geralt feels like he is losing his mind, running in circles trying to find every tavern he could for  _ weeks _ with the hope that  _ someone  _ would know. 

He made camp in the woods after his last dead end and petrified bard. The innkeeper wasn’t too keen on him staying after that. 

He once again found himself sitting and staring at Jaskiers lute. He released a deep breath, his head thudding gently against the rough bark of the tree at his back. He didn’t want to give up like Yennefer advised him to. Not yet. But still, he was tired. 

He closed his eyes to the lute, unable to bear looking at it any longer. “Jaskier.” He whispered to the night. “Jaskier, please. Where are you.” 

The wind ruffled his hair almost as though it was responding. Geralt chuckled humorlessly, without Jaskier he was finding his own thoughts turning more often to poetics or whimsical wanting. Just like he wanted to believe he could smell Jaskier on that breeze. 

“Did you get kicked out of town?” A subdued voice echoed through the clearing. 

Geralt threw himself forward to stand and stare at the creature perched high up in a tree across from him, back against the trunk in forced relaxation. His face was turned from him. 

“Jaskier.” Geralt called out, breathless. 

“Geralt.” Jaskier still wasn’t looking at him, everything about his posture spoke of caution. “You’ve been looking for me.”

“I have.” Geralt answers carefully, his hands flexing at his side. If he messes this up, he knows somehow that this would be their last interaction. “I. I missed you.” He confessed, embarrassed but not wanting to look away, for fear of him disappearing. He inhaled sharply when Jaskier finally turned to face him. 

Jaskier hated that he couldn’t stop the tears from falling, the attempted neutrality of his expression ruined by their presence. They froze against his skin and in his eyelashes, frosting his cheeks. “Missed me?”, his voice quaked and with it, the earth under Geralt's feet. 

“Yes,” Geralt breathed out softly, “I am no longer accustomed to the silence, to not having you near.” Geralt could hardly stand the searching look Jaskier gave him. His gaze left him feeling exposed, vulnerable, but still, he met it.

When Jaskier remained silent Geralt took a fortifying breath, this was his last chance. He had to say it. “You were right, to say I didn’t see you. I didn’t. I do now, I see you. If I could have the opportunity, I would still like to see more. To see all of you.” Geralt never broke eye contact, as much as it hurt to see the wariness in Jaskier’s eyes. 

Jaskier must have seen what he needed from Geralt’s face because he stood and stepped out of the tree. When he landed on the forest floor it was the human face of the Jaskier he used to know staring back at him.    
  
“Very few get to know me.” Jaskier finally spoke in the tenor that Geralt missed in the silence of his path without him. He sat across the fire from Geralt, still too far but Geralt won’t take any closeness for granted, not anymore. 

Geralt understood what was being asked of him, as he too had always feared letting people close, letting them know his vulnerabilities. He understood the trust that was being placed in him. “I would like to prove I am worthy of it.” 

Jaskier spoke with a voice as soft as his smile. “I think you will.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I have ideas of a chapter 2 but unsure when/if it would be written
> 
> Edit: wow okay I was not expecting this kind of response. Life is a little rough right now which is why I posted it as complete, it was meant initially to be a one-shot when I started writing. Guess things change haha


End file.
